They weren’t invited, but neither were they expelled. The Xuanzhen Dao Court cultivators seemed to be just passing through hurriedly, while Jiang Yiguang and Zhao Sujie were like insignificant weeds swaying on the ground, utterly ignored. Zhao Sujie grumbled under her breath, scratched her head, and looked at the dazed Jiang Yiguang with confusion. “Hey,” she said, then asked, “What do they mean by this?”
Jiang Yiguang snapped back to attention and shook her head. “I don’t know.” Had the Xuanzhen Dao Court already repaired the nodes? Otherwise, why would they let younger disciples enter so openly? Had Fu Juan encountered Fu Changheng? Had those Dao Court disciples sent the news back? A string of questions surfaced in Jiang Yiguang’s mind. She steadied herself, pushed the distracting thoughts away, glanced at the frowning Zhao Sujie, and softened her tone. “Let’s keep moving,” she said gently.
Ahead, Fu Juan’s group followed the corridor to a secret chamber. “All the mechanisms in this passage have been disabled. Not a single hidden arrow. Although the ghostly Qi is dense, the mausoleum’s overall spirituality is very low,” someone noted.
“But even if this ghostly Qi leaks out, it’s enough to assault the city.”
“Still better than seeing the Ghost King, right?”
The chatter abruptly stopped when they saw what nearly filled the chamber: an evil, overflowing cave. The chilling ghostly Qi, almost tangible, surged like thick ink, as if about to erupt upwards. Yet before it could breach the opening, talismans bloomed with golden light, suppressing the ghostly Qi with overwhelmingly domineering and righteous force. In the interplay of gold and black, one could faintly make out piles of skeletons and negative-energy spirits twisting, roaring, and wailing.
A Dao Court cultivator was dumbfounded. “What is this thing?”
A cold gleam flashed in Fu Juan’s eyes. She gave a sardonic smile. “A sacrificial burial pit.” The emperor buried atop the dragon vein was no benevolent ruler; otherwise, he wouldn’t have turned into a ferocious ghost thousands of years later, transforming the surrounding area into a Ghost Domain. This section of the dragon vein’s spirituality had long been nearly ruined. What concerned her wasn’t the sacrificial burial pit, but the spell talismans placed at its edge. Combined with the disabled mechanisms they’d seen upon entering the tomb, she was certain a true Mystic Sect cultivator had arrived here recently. Had they triggered this ghostly calamity? Or did their strength simply fall short?
A Mystic cultivator said in a low voice, “There are spell talismans suppressing it. We need to set up an altar to liberate them all.” The talismans were currently wearing down the ghostly Qi in the pit, but their own power was steadily fading. The worry was that before all the ghosts and monsters could be fully liberated, the talismans would lose their potency. Liberating these lost souls and ghosts was also one of the reasons they had entered the Ghost King Mausoleum.
By the time Jiang Yiguang and Zhao Sujie arrived, they saw the Dao Court setting up an altar and chanting scriptures. Zhao Sujie was completely baffled. Jiang Yiguang’s pupils constricted sharply. This familiar pit violently assaulted her mind like a tidal wave—this was the “gift” fate tried to force upon her. But in this scene, gradually overlapping with her deepest memories, the male lead Wang Xuanming was absent, and Fu Juan’s expression was not as cold and cruel as she had imagined. Most bizarre was the ritual altar… In her memories, the Ghost Cave’s ghostly Qi had surged skyward, an assault that ordinary disciples simply couldn’t withstand. In the end, it required the protagonist, doted on by the Dao of Heaven himself, to turn the tide.
The current scene was like preparing to slay a dragon, only to arrive and find a tiny earthworm instead. Clearly, her Compatibility Value hadn’t dropped to its lowest point, yet the plot had already veered off to an unimaginable degree. Did this mean she could be completely at ease from now on? Or did it conceal an even deeper pain?
The preordained “death fate” naturally bred anxiety, but realizing the future was now unpredictable made her heart equally suspended. The unease buried deep within began erupting like a volcano. Jiang Yiguang swayed slightly, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She sighed. It seemed only this could temporarily ease that inexplicable, oppressive feeling inside.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Zhao Sujie, traveling with her, was clearly more concerned about her companion’s change. Her own shock and bafflement vanished in an instant, replaced entirely by care for Jiang Yiguang. The moment she reached out to steady Jiang Yiguang, she distinctly felt a sharp gaze land on her. Subconsciously looking up, she met Fu Juan’s eyes. The other was absently chanting incantations, her dark gaze carrying an intensity deeper than the night itself. Zhao Sujie felt a brief disorientation but didn’t dwell on it, continuing to show her concern for Jiang Yiguang through her eyes.
Feeling the weight on her arm, Jiang Yiguang glanced down at Zhao Sujie’s hand. She forced a smile. “It’s nothing.” The character panel was still before her eyes, but the system was deathly quiet, as if it had never existed. Jiang Yiguang was used to the system’s “dragon-seeing-head-but-not-tail” style, yet at this moment, she still tried calling out to it in her mind.
The lone main quest was still there. Usually, at critical junctures, she would face a choice. Now, the choices had vanished. It was as if the errors had been completely corrected, and that near-death crisis had melted away like snow under a blazing sun.
A “zzt zzt” static sound rang out. After a long while, another sigh echoed in her mind. It wasn’t the mechanical, cold voice, but one steeped in the weight of endless years, like the last elegy at sunset. The moment she heard the sigh, the previously suppressed emotions resurfaced. A vast emptiness swept over her like a cyclone, swallowing Jiang Yiguang whole.
Jiang Yiguang moved forward in a daze. But just as she stepped out, two forces abruptly grabbed her wrists. On the left was Zhao Sujie. On the right… was Fu Juan, who had appeared from some unknown place. When Zhao Sujie let go, Fu Juan stubbornly held onto her right wrist. Her fingertips were cold, even trembling slightly, but as time passed, a spark seemed to ignite on that coldness, tumbling and burning its way right to her heart.
Fu Juan: “A true practitioner of the Mystic Sect came here before.”
Jiang Yiguang nodded. “I know.” She paused, then couldn’t help but ask, “Did you see… Uncle Fu?” The moment the words left her mouth, she finally understood where that unease came from. It was a warning from her bloodline, from her instinct. Her mother had been investigating the dragon vein matters. With her abilities, could she have also found her way to the “source” from eight years ago?
Fu Juan was silent for a long time before answering softly, “I saw him.” They had received the Dao Court disciples’ message, and when they rushed over, naturally, she also saw her “father” burdened with shackles. His appearance made the face gradually blurring in her memory vividly clear again, but that sense of closeness was completely gone. He was a sacrifice offered to the Ghost King. What had appeared now could only be a “puppet”, a “ghostly evil”. She had known long ago that for those who were lost, one shouldn’t expect their return.
“Then…” Jiang Yiguang hesitated.
“Alchemist Tao and the others will handle it.” Fu Juan knew what Jiang Yiguang wanted to ask, and she answered calmly. She vaguely perceived a hint of lost helplessness radiating from Jiang Yiguang, which imperceptibly closed the distance that had been deliberately pulled between them. The only possible reason for this state was something involving Aunt Jiang. “Are you worried?” Fu Juan asked again.
“Worried about what?” Zhao Sujie listened to their riddle-like exchange with a face full of confusion.
Fu Juan cast a subtle glance at Zhao Sujie. There had never been any past interaction, yet in cooperation, genuine bonds could easily form.
Jiang Yiguang frowned. “My intuition tells me things are very bad.”
Fu Juan’s fingertip gently brushed the skin of Jiang Yiguang’s wrist, like a silent consolation. Given how things had developed, the words “definitely safe” were no longer credible; it was purely a useless platitude. But seeing the trace of sadness on Jiang Yiguang’s brow, Fu Juan chose to say, “Everything will be fine.” She was habitually stoic, her tone always so flat and bland. Hearing her own words, Fu Juan felt a twinge of regret at the inherent awkwardness and indifference they conveyed.
But Jiang Yiguang didn’t seem to mind Fu Juan’s tone too much. She was no longer the person who’d fly into a rage at a single word. She looked at Fu Juan steadily and asked, “Do you believe words like that? What can self-comfort actually change?”
Fu Juan had nothing to say. Jiang Yiguang looked down at her briefly and smiled. “But you do have a point.” Facing an uncertain future, there was no other way besides accepting it. She paused, then added, “Uncle Fu is outside. There’s a chance Aunt Zhang could appear too. What will you do, Fu Juan…” The words, filled with infinite lament, swirled like a gentle breeze by her ear. A faint, woody scent washed over her. Fu Juan’s pupils contracted. She released her grip on Jiang Yiguang and watched her join the ranks of the Dao Court disciples, performing a “physical salvation” on the negative-energy souls within the pit.
Jiang Yiguang was growing. This aligned with both Aunt Jiang’s and her own expectations. But during this process, she found herself drifting further away from Jiang Yiguang. That pervasive, excessive “closeness” and “pursuit” had been suffocating, yet seeing her now as a distant, untraceable speck like a lone boat sailing into the sun’s horizon felt equally unsettling.
She remembered the past. She and Jiang Yiguang were always one behind the other. She never waited, because “an inch of time is an inch of gold” was her golden rule; taking Jiang Yiguang out to play was deemed a waste of time. And Jiang Yiguang never got discouraged. While cursing, she’d pump her short little legs, struggling to catch up. That initial simplicity and innocence hadn’t yet been decisively discarded by Jiang Yiguang. Back then, neither of them had become dark and obsessive. Back then, even knowing family affection was thin, they hadn’t yet tasted the ultimate bitterness of losing everything.
But now, had Jiang Yiguang finally come to her senses? She probably wouldn’t engage in senseless chasing anymore.
—
Outside the Ghost King Mausoleum. Countless nodes of the great sealing array had collapsed, causing the once-suppressed ghostly Qi to leak out, allowing negative-energy ghosts and spirits to roam in broad daylight. But regardless, everything was far better than they had imagined. Not only had they not encountered the Ghost King, but they hadn’t even met any evil beings at the Ghost General level. Those collapsed nodes were astonishingly easy to repair, as if someone had already reconnected them, and all they needed to do was “ignite the spark.”
